


Marry Me

by JadelynTate



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Woke Up In Vegas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-01
Updated: 2013-10-19
Packaged: 2017-12-28 02:47:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/986756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadelynTate/pseuds/JadelynTate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nevada laws were stupid. Annulment laws, even more so.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Calex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calex/gifts).



> **Author:** Jaded  
>  **Story:** Marry Me  
>  **Disclaimer:** Joss owns Dawn, Buffy, and Co; Hawkeye and the Avengers are owned by Marvel. I write for fun, not for profit.  
>  **Summary:** Nevada laws were stupid. Annulment laws, even more so.  
>  **Warning:** Timeline's not wonky this time. Random/fictional laws for Nevada.  
>  **A/N 1:** This is for Calex, who got me an invite to AO3 so I wouldn't have to wait till February to get in (seriously, the waiting list is insane). It turned out a LOT longer than I'd expected, which is why its takeing so long.  
>  **A/N 2:** Also, I was trying to come up with a specific reason for the lack of annulment and yes, I know, the law is silly but considering some of the laws currently on the books, its not entirely out of the question.  
>  **A/N 3:** Thanks to LadyBold for looking this over and fixing my errors.

He didn't often drink.

They dulled the senses and in his line of work, that could often be the line between life and death. So when he drank after a mission, he usually took an entire platoon with him just to make sure something stupid didn't happen.

After Loki, however, not even his normal group was willing to go with him to Vegas, which probably explained why he woke up the next morning with the mother of all hangovers, in a hotel room not his own, listening to someone curse as she not so stealthily tried getting to the bathroom without waking him up.

He took a quick look at the woman as he heard her footfalls falter by the end of the bed. She was tall, taller than him most likely, with legs that went on forever, dark brown hair down to her waist, and big blue eyes set in a pixie-like face. She was wearing an oversized t-shirt that said “Sunnydale High” and nothing else. She wasn't too young, he didn't think, definitely not in high school, but if she was older than twenty-five, he'd be surprised.

“Well,” he heard her snort to herself as she quickly rushed to the bathroom. “At least I still have good taste when I'm wasted.”

He couldn't help but smirk at that as the door closed gently. Yeah, he'd been pretty much thinking the same thing. He remained silent, waiting to make sure she'd remain in there, before he quietly slipped his legs over the bed, the sheet bunching around his waist. He'd leave while she was in there, to avoid the awkward morning after, and they'd both be happy.

Well. Happier than he already was, anyway, because it had been a long fucking time since he got laid and so his body was pretty damn happy at the moment. 

Shaking away that thought, he took in the hotel suite. It was bigger than his own, more costly, so the woman had money or access to it. It also looked like a tornado had ripped through. Two lamps were on the floor, one of which had shattered. A painting was skewed, and he flashed back to taking the woman up against the wall, blue-green eyes burning into soft blue as they lost balance and crashed to the floor laughing. A chair was toppled over and the bed, he realized, was in the center of the room, not up against a wall. He grinned slightly. A good fucking night (pun intended).

He got up, dropping the sheet as he rummaged for his clothes as quietly and quickly as he was able, considering he _was_ hungover. His jeans and boots he found by the window, his jean jacket and hoodie by the door, his t-shirt had been under the bed, and his boxers he couldn't find at all. Zipping up, he spared one last glance around the room, before he grabbed his wallet and quietly headed out the door. Closing it gently behind him, he took stock of the number and memorized it for when he got downstairs. No way was he letting her pay all the damages.

No matter what some might say, he wasn't a douche.

It wasn't until he was leaving the hotel, left hand on the lobby doors, that he saw the ring.

**~~*~~**

Dawn spared a sigh of relief when Arms took the opportunity she'd presented and left. She'd known watching him that he wasn't asleep, she'd seen enough of Spike and Xander pretending to sleep to know when it was happening right under her nose. He was definitely better at it then the others, but she'd known. She just didn't want to deal with awkward morning after anymore than he obviously did so she'd decided to hang out in the bathroom, while he got dressed and skedaddled.

Sitting down on the toilet, she listened as he got up silently and went to work finding his clothes. She smiled slightly and leaned back, eyes closing as she waited for the tale-tell sound of the hotel door opening. Once she got it, her eyes popped open again. Almost immediately, she snickered.

His boxers were hanging over the shower curtain rod.

Coming back out of the bathroom, she flopped down on the bed, uncaring it was several feet away from where it started.

She was in Vegas as a gift for herself, having finally finished her thesis and defended it. She was pretty sure she'd killed it, so in a few days or weeks, she'd be getting confirmation that little Dawnie was now Dawn Summers, PhD. In the meantime, she needed to unwind. Hence why she'd found that bar, found Arms, and then proceeded to get them both drunk to, she smirked, screw each other senseless.

She shifted and then winced at the pulling. Oh yeah, definitely a good night but she'd be walking funny for a few days.

A knock came and she tensed, wondering if the lack of underwear had been enough of an annoyance for the guy to come back. Getting up, she tiptoed over to the door, cursing herself even as she did so. Just as she was about to look through the peep, a familiar voice shouted. “Come on, D, open the fuckin' door!”

Breathing a sigh of relief, Dawn opened the door and allowed Faith inside. Closing the door, Dawn turned to find the other woman looking around the room. The renounced dark slayer gave her a lecherous and approving grin. “Nice night?”

“He had arms,” she agreed, thankful not for the first time that she'd gotten over the issues she'd had with the other brunette. Buffy might be better about Dawn taking control of her sexuality (if better meant stuffing a box of condoms into Dawn's suitcase when she'd been packing and not saying anything about it) but it was Faith who she'd called the first time she'd had a drunken one night stand and who'd talked her through the panic of the morning after.

“Strong?”

Dawn recalled the one hand holding her down and smirked. “Hmmm,” she agreed and Faith looked just a bit jealous. Apparently Robin had fucked her over when it came to just fucking without thought—she needed a connection now or it didn't do a thing for her in the long run. Which reminded her....

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“Red got a hit on the legal system this morning,” she replied, turning around. Dawn suddenly realized she was carrying a six pack. Dawn's hangover had been taken cared of via the detox pills Willow made her but she had no intention of getting drunk again for a few days at least.

“What kind of hit?” she asked, moving to push the bed back to where it belonged.

“Apparently, you were feeling so good about getting your doctorate, you also decided to change your name last night,” Faith said easily. Startled, Dawn slipped and fell to the ground, bashing her head on the edge of the bed on her way down. She ignored that to twist around to look up at the dark-haired slayer. There was amusement on her face but it was the tone of her voice and the worry in her eyes that told Dawn that Faith wasn't joking.

“What?” she asked faintly. Faith handed over a can of beer.

“I think you're going to need this, _Dr. Barton_ ,” she said pointedly, looking down at Dawn's lap.

Slowly, she brought her hand up. There, sparkling on her left ring finger, was a simple gold band.

“Fuck.”

**~~*~~**

Clint hesitated as he approached the bank of elevators in the hotel lobby. He really didn't want to do this but he didn't think he had a choice.

He'd freaked out when he'd seen the ring, knowing he'd never have worn it unless he'd been playing a part and as he'd been strictly forbidden from getting involved in _anything_ until Fury calmed the Council down about him, there was no way Clint went on a mission last night, drunk or not.

Which meant he'd actually become the cliché he'd sworn he'd never become. Fuck.

It took him less than an hour wandering around the casino attached to the hotel before he'd decided to man up and go back. At the very least the two of them could go and get an annulment and, if he were very lucky, no one but Fury would ever hear about this. 

Clint was under no illusion that Fury either already knew or would soon enough. He was Director of SHIELD for a reason, after all.

The doors to the elevator opened and Clint took one look inside and froze. Fuck. It was her.

With an older brunette, who immediately seemed to connect the dots if the way she gave him a slow once over and then grinned in approval was any indication.

“So. Um. Hey,” his should-have-been-a-one-night-stand—his mind skittered over the word wife—said, waving slightly when she saw him. “Barton, right?”

“Um.”

“Dawn,” she said, shifting from foot to foot. Her friend murmured something too low for him to hear and the shifting turned into her crunching down on the other woman's foot. The older woman grimaced but didn't do anything in retaliation.

“Clint,” he finally said. “How, um...how did you know my last name?”

“Faith,” Dawn replied and Clint frowned, confused. Both women's lips quirked.

“Me,” the older woman—Faith, apparently—said. She stuffed her hands in her leather jacket, eyeing him up and down like Natasha'd done once—it was the look of someone determining a threat level. “S'my name.”

“How'd you find out?” he asked, surprised.

“D's big sis is major wacko when it comes to her safety,” Faith shrugged.

“She's _so_ not kidding,” Dawn groaned. “She has a friend who, um, well...”

“Basically Red may or may not have a program in place online that alerts us whenever Dawn hits the legal system,” Faith smirked.

“You might as well just come out and say she's a hacker,” Dawn complained with a disgruntled look. “Seriously, do you ever do subtle?”

“Subtle's boring,” Faith shrugged.

“Doesn't have to be,” he and Dawn answered at the same time. He started, staring at her in surprise as she gaped back at him. Faith looked between them and—there was really no other word to describe it—cackled.

“Oh, B's gonna _love_ you!”

**~~*~~**

They headed back to the hotel room, Faith tagging along and snickering every so often as she walked behind the couple. As worried as the Slayer was, the older woman was having the time of her life watching Dawn and Barton be all awkward. Seriously, everyone always said D was the responsible Summers sister. It was hilarious to her that no one ever realized how horribly horribly wrong that assumption was and that they conveniently forgot all about her shenanigans weeks after they came to light.

Though, Faith acknowledged, this one was likely to stay in the Scoobies mind for a bit longer than the time Dawn slapped the prince of that one country when he hit on her.

They had just gotten into the hotel room and were sitting down when Barton's phone went off, beeping at him. Barton swallowed harshly when he pulled it out and looked at who was calling.

“Shit,” he sighed, flipping open. “Tasha.”

“ _What were you thinking?_ ” came a woman's voice, all cool flatness. Faith could see Dawn eyeing her speculatively out of the corner of her eye and gave a minuscule nod. She'd listen in, see if this was bad. Satisfied, Dawn went over to the mini-fridge and pulled out the beer again. She handed one to Barton. He accepted with a quirked smile before it fell to the silence on the phone.

“I was drunk,” he replied, putting the phone between his shoulder and ear and popping the can open. He took a long swig and Faith eyed his throat as he leaned back to guzzle it down. The irony of him drinking now while explaining this was not lost to any of those currently in the room. Dawn snickered as she grabbed her laptop and settled down on the bed.

“ _You were drunk._ ” It was a statement of fact, like she was repeating the words to try and make sense of them. There was a long pause before, “ _That's what you're going with?_ ”

“I was rip-roaringly drunk?” he tried again and there was a distinct snort through the phone. “Tasha, I didn't go into this thinking, hey, let's become the cliché! It was an accident!”

The woman muttered something in what Faith thought was Russian. From Barton's wince, he understood and it wasn't complimentary. She tried memorizing what it sounded like for Dawn to maybe translate later. “ _So you went to Las Vegas when I distinctly remember me telling you it was a bad idea. Where you got drunk and decided to get married to a perfect stranger._ ”

“That...about sums it up, yes,” he admitted. He put down the beer can, still about half-way full if Faith had to guess. He leaned forward, putting his head in his hand, the other holding tightly to his cell phone. “Tash, you know me, this isn't the first time I've come to Vegas to forget and no one wanted to come with after--”

He stopped, his breath stuttering in something Faith intimately recognized: Guilt. Her eyes narrowed. What could he have to feel guilty about?

“ _I would have if you'd given me time to finish my job,_ ” Tasha broke in and she sounded softer now, less angry. “ _Any of us would have, Clinton._ ”

Barton tensed. “I don't know them, Tasha,” he said softly. Faith absently wondered if she was just projecting when she heard the unsaid “I don't trust them.”

“ _I know,_ ” Tasha replied after a moment. “ _So, this woman—what are you going to do?_ ”

“We don't know yet,” Barton answered, eyes finally flickering up to take in Dawn on the bed, laptop in her hand and wincing every so often as she typed back and forth with someone; from what Faith could see of the screen, she knew it had to be someone from the Council. Probably Willow, since she and Giles were the only two who knew at the moment. “I'll...let you know when we do.”

“ _Well, I was going to say you might be eligible to get an annulment but Stark reminded me that Nevada recently passed a new law,_ ” Tasha answered. “ _Anyone intoxicated at the time of their marriage in the city of Las Vegas is required to remain together for six months before getting an annulment or divorce. It's probably going to be overturned soon—people are saying its unconstitutional and a violation of personal rights—but that may not be for a few months yet with every state having to deal with the fallout from Manhattan._ ”

Barton groaned as Faith's eyes widened. “Damnit, Stark knows about this?” he demanded, either not getting the big picture or ignoring it. Faith grabbed a nearby pen and wrote down “Nevada law, annulment/divorce in Las Vegas?” before handing it over to Dawn. She looked at it, read what it said, and looked back at Faith confused. Faith gave a look at the laptop and the younger girl understood, bringing up Google. Faith knew the moment Dawn understood; her eyes got even bigger than normal and her mouth dropped open. Turning back to Barton, she saw him rubbing at his head. He hadn't noticed the byplay, which something told her was unusual.

“Yeah, yeah, tell him if he does, I'll shoot him,” he was saying, Faith having missed whatever Tasha had said.

“ _I don't think he'll care,_ ” Tasha said and she sounded amused. “ _He's already planning a wedding party. Steve's helping._ ”

“Steve's **helping**?!” Barton yelped and Tasha gave a low throaty chuckle.

“ _Oh yes,_ ” she agreed. “ _Apparently, our illustrious Captain doesn't approve of your shenanigans. His only consolation, it seems, is that you were married before you had sex with a complete stranger._ ”

Barton groaned, whether from the knowledge his friend didn't approve or the reproach even Faith could hear in the woman's voice as she said the last bit. “Old-fashioned nutcase,” Barton muttered. “What does Banner have to say? I mean, if Tony and Steve know, Banner knows too, right?”

There was a pause. “ _He's staying out of it,_ ” she finally answered. “ _In all honestly, I think he's more amused than anything else. Stark and Pepper too._ ”

“Figures.” There was a pause and then Barton's grip on the phone tightened. “What about Fury and Coulson?”

“ _Coulson hasn't yet been told because Fury's refusing to allow him to do anything more than take a break,_ ” Tasha answered promptly, which told Faith she'd been waiting for this. “ _And Fury, according to Hill, laughed his ass off in his office when he found out._ ”

Barton looked like he'd been electrocuted. “Fury laughed?!” Out of the corner of her eye, Faith saw Dawn look up at the absolute astonishment in the man's exclamation.

“ _Yes,_ ” Tasha replied. Her voice turned wry as she added, “ _As you can imagine, everyone's thoroughly terrified of what that means._ ”

Barton whimpered.

Having apparently done her job, Tasha ended the call then, telling Barton to figure out what they were going to do and then let her know. She informed him she'd been forbidden from going to Las Vegas but if Barton didn't update her at least once a day, she'd go off the grid. Barton had nodded and the call ended. He stared at the phone in his hand, simply shaking his head. Faith decided it was time to get some information.

“Are you military?” It was blunt, to the point, and tactless—but it also caught Dawn's attention.

“Former Army Ranger,” he answered, sighing as he looked up at her. “You heard that entire conversation, didn't you?”

So he wasn't as oblivious as he appeared to be—point in his favor, she supposed. Faith only debated a moment whether to be honest before she nodded. “You're still with the government.” Again, it was a statement of fact, not a question.

“Yes and no,” he answered. “I'm an Agent of SHIELD. That was my partner. We're an international organization. Sort of.”

“SHIELD?” Faith asked, frowning. “Why does that sound familiar?”

“You don't pay any attention at council meetings, do you?” Dawn asked Faith, exasperation on her face. It was at odds with the way her hands were balled up in fists in her lap, the computer closed in front of her. “Seriously, you need to pay attention even to the boring bits, not just the violent stuff.”

Faith snapped her fingers then, recalling the meeting they'd had in the aftermath of the alien attack in New York the month before. “Right, I remember now,” she said. They'd watched the footage on CNN and MSNBC and whatnot as they'd discussed things. The US Government's statement that it was an honest to god alien attack had done little to reassure Buffy or Giles. Their only consolation had been the team that had fought in New York weren't, supposedly, part of the US government but some international...organization... She suddenly turned to Barton, eyes widening as she took him in and compared it to the footage they'd seen. “Wait a minute—BOW GUY?!”

He winced. “I prefer the term archer,” he said miserably. He groaned and grabbed the drink again. “Damnit, Tasha's never gonna let me hear the end of this.”

“Oh, I don't know,” Dawn said suddenly, studying her nails easily as they both turned to her. “You definitely have bow fingers.”

Still stunned at the fact Dawn had managed to marry a member of the Avengers, it took even her a few seconds to realize what the other woman meant. When she did, she didn't know whether to laugh her ass off, leer suggestively at her, or groan. Bowman, it seemed, got it much quicker than Faith had and was currently choking on his beer.

“You knew!” Faith suddenly exclaimed, staring at Dawn when the other girl just smirked. “You knew who he was!”

“From the moment I saw him when I woke up in bed,” Dawn agreed. “Again, I actually pay attention in meetings. It's why I tried to let him out without the awkward morning after. Guy deserved a break.” 

“Thanks,” Barton said dryly, wiping slightly at his chin. “You knew I was awake when you went into the bathroom?”

“You're not as adept at faking sleep as you think you are,” she agreed with a wink. He chuckled and went to take another drink of his beer, apparently wanting to finish it off. Either that or he was just going on instinct, routine, something subconscious. Possibly trying the remedy of a hangover by drinking more, Faith was honestly unsure. She saw Dawn glance at her a second, laughter in her eyes, before she turned back to Barton. “So, what are we gonna do, Husband-mine?”

Faith smirked as Barton began choking yet again.

Thatta girl.


	2. Part 2

**Author:** Jaded  
 **Story:** Marry Me  
 **Disclaimer:** Joss owns Dawn, Buffy, and Co; Hawkeye and the Avengers are owned by Marvel. I write for fun, not for profit.  
 **Summary:** Nevada laws were stupid. Annulment laws, even more so. #310 (Woke Up In Vegas)  
 **Warning:** Timeline's not wonky this time. Random/fictional laws for Nevada.  
 **A/N 1:** Mucho thanks, again, to LadyBold for looking this over for me!

**Two**

In the end, they'd chosen to go to a nearby lawyer to see about their options. Though the state refused annulments at the moment, they hadn't said anything about full out divorce out of state. As much as Dawn didn't particularly care for the idea of being divorced at twenty-seven, she seriously doubted she'd have much choice once Buffy found out.

According to what Faith had told her, right now only four people were currently aware of the situation; her, Faith, Willow, and Giles. According to the Slayer, the reason Buffy hadn't yet been told was because none of the latter three wanted to be the one to tell her. That, and Willow was of the opinion that they should let Dawn try and get out of this herself, since it wasn't council related. Giles had, unsurprisingly, agreed.

In the end, the lawyer basically told them exactly what the two had already known. Annulments were currently impossible in the State of Nevada for anyone who got married in Vegas drunk and hadn't been together for six months. Because of the way the law had been written, she'd seemed certain it would be overturned eventually, but, the woman had admitted, it might actually be quicker to just go through with the divorce in another state since everyone was still on pins and needles about the attack in Manhattan. If the divorce was amicable and both wanted it for the same reasons, she didn't think it would take very long to get it done; a few months at most. She steadfast told them NOT to try the courts in Nevada, however, because several judges were taking the new law very seriously—even if they disagreed with it—and that was likely to cause more trouble than it was worth.

Faith had disappeared while they were heading to the lawyers office, simply waving a wad of cash at her and heading in the direction of the Strip. Dawn had wished her opponents luck—Faith was insanely good at poker and wouldn't be intimidated by big strapping men they may or may not have playing.

Blinking at the sunlight when they left the office, Dawn looked around. They were in one of the quieter sections of the city, away from the majority of the tourist traps. Part of her just wanted to go back, try and lose herself in gambling or even more alcohol, but the responsible part of her told her to suck it up and deal. This was the hand she'd dealt herself—she'd known getting drunk in Vegas would not be a good idea—and she'd just have to accept that she'd royally screwed up. She sighed and headed for the car she'd rented. She didn't turn the car on and when he realized she wasn't planning on it anytime soon, Clint turned to her with a sigh.

“Why don't we go get something to eat, McDonald's or something, and find a place to park and talk,” he suggested. She couldn't see his eyes through the sunglasses he'd slipped on but he gave her a small smile. “It's almost one and I'm starving. I'll think better with food.”

“Me too,” she finally agreed and turned to start the car. He reached out then, hesitant, as he placed a hand on her wrist.

“We'll figure this out, Dawn, don't worry,” he assured her. “If worse comes to worse, we'll part ways and in six months come back to get the annulment.”

For some reason, that caused her stomach to tighten even more than it already was. Trying to ignore it, she started the car and busied herself with fiddling with the GPS to find first a Subway, then a park. Clint didn't say anything at the change in food and she slowly started to force herself to relax. He was right, they'd figure this out.

**~~*~~**

They didn't talk as they ate in the park. They'd commandeered a picnic table and just sat outside enjoying the sun as they munched on the two subs. That didn't mean Clint wasn't taking stock of Dawn, however. He was trying to watch her as unobtrusively as possible as she ate her sub, coming up with things about her from observation alone.

She'd ordered an odd mixture of meats, cheeses, and toppings, and had no problem with mess or taking large bites in front of him, which told him two things—one, she was open to experimenting with her food and she wasn't nervous around him. Whether that was because they'd already fucked and fucked up or because it was just her way remained to be seen. (It also told him that she either exercised regularly or she had a high metabolism but that was less important).

The second thing he figured out quickly was that despite looking unconcerned with the goings on around her, she was strongly aware of what was going on in the park. When a child on the swings fell and started crying, her lips twisted in a grimace as something passed through her eyes. When a pair of sisters could be heard arguing as they walked back to a car, she'd rolled her eyes. She'd been the one to choose their picnic table, specifically placed so they could both see anyone coming up on them. It was the exact table Clint had wanted but he hadn't had to say anything because she'd taken one sweep of the park and headed for it.

So she was aware of her surroundings in a way that he'd only seen on people previously victimized or soldiers and law enforcement officers. There was no way she was a victim and she obviously held little love for the military so...that part was throwing him off.

“I have an older sister,” she announced suddenly.

Clint paused. “You do?” he asked, thinking of Barney.

“Buffy,” she agreed and her lips twisted. “When you meet her, don't make fun of her name. She doesn't take kindly to it.”

“I think I can handle it,” he said, imagining some faceless older version of Dawn. She snorted.

“That's what Riley and Graham both said,” she noted. “They were rangers too.”

“Riley and Graham?”

“Mmmhm,” she agreed. “Specialist Major Riley Finn and Specialist Captain Graham Miller. Army Rangers, spec ops. They're currently stationed somewhere on the East coast but they travel out of the country a lot. They sent me a box of fortune cookies and a thousand year old book for my birthday last year.”

He decided to ignore the spec ops and foreign travel bits—he could have Tasha look into them both—and zeroed in on the latter part of her comment. “A thousand year old book?”

“Yup,” she agreed. “They were still feeling guilty so they went overboard. And they told Buffy they got a good price on the book anyway so...I wasn't about to complain, I've been wanting that book for ages.”

“A thousand year old book....”

“I'm a linguist,” she informed him, turning and looking at him dead on. “Anthropologist too, but mostly linguist. I know thirty-seven languages. Well,” she amended, “thirty-seven real languages. I know about ten more that aren't considered real by popular opinion.”

“Elvish and Klingon?”

“Among others.” There was an amused tilt to her lips as she replied and he considered calling her on it but decided not to. Instead, he went another route.

“You're a geek!” he exclaimed, smiling, and she nodded back resolutely.

“And proud of it,” she agreed. Laughter was at war with seriousness in her eyes as she added, “Geeks really will inherit the Earth.”

“You do not look like a geek,” he noted before his brain could stop him. He winced when an eyebrow went up but she didn't throw a fit like his last ex would have.

“To be a fly on the wall when you see Willow,” she said instead with a grin. “She's been courted by pretty much every major corporation on the planet but she's said no to them all. The tech bigwigs are seriously worried she's going to open her own company one of these days and put them out of business.”

Clint wondered briefly if Stark had been one of those corporations and pushed it to the side. Thinking about Stark (and ultimately of the rest of the team of crazies known as the Avengers) led to madness.

“How old are you?” he suddenly blurted out. “You mentioned your last birthday...”

She paused a moment. “How old are you?” she asked instead of answering.

He debated for a brief moment if he should lie and decided against it. She might as well know... “Thirty-eight.”

“Huh,” she said, head tilted. “I'd think you'd be older.”

“I'm not,” he said, amused despite himself—usually people thought he was younger. “And you?”

“Why do you want to know?” she asked and he had a feeling she wasn't being cagey on purpose—she was messing around.

“Cause I want to know if I'm going to get shot for sleeping with someone's baby girl,” he replied bluntly and her expression tightened.

“Mom died when I was fourteen,” she said, looking unconcerned. Despite her nonchalance, her eyes were tightened in anger and pain. “And I haven't spoken to the sperm donor since then—he stopped mattering so much when he didn't even come for mom's funeral. So no worries—the only one you have to really worry about is Buffy—and Spike.”

“Spike?”

“Sister's ex-boyfriend who helped raise me,” she said. “He's...intense.”

“Good to know,” he said and then paused. “You sidestepped the question.”

“You're...eleven years older than me,” she said, obviously doing the mental math in her head. “I just turned twenty-seven.”

It was his turn to be surprised. Given her appearance and the way she'd been avoiding the question, he'd been thinking a LOT younger.

“How old is your sister?”

“Thirty-three,” she said, smirking. “She hates it.”

“Why?”

“Cause thirty is, like, so _old_!” she said in a faux ditsy voice and he laughed. She rolled her eyes. “Seriously, she refused to even celebrate her thirtieth. Part of that was cause its a universal constant that her birthdays suck but...”

“They suck?”

Dawn held up a hand and started ticking them off on her hand: “Seventeenth she lost her virginity and the guy turned into an ass, eighteenth mom got kidnapped by a guy on PCP and Buffy nearly got killed saving her, nineteenth her father figure guy got roofied and turned into a jackass for the night, twentieth _I_ got kidnapped by a local cult leader, twenty-first we got locked in our house—long story—she skipped her twenty-second, twenty-third she got into a gang fight in Tokyo and nearly got skewered, twenty-fourth was also skipped, twenty-fifth she was in a car accident with what she swears was an Ent...”

Clint held out a hand to stop her from continuing. “I get the picture,” he said, mentally adding Buffy Summers to his list of people to have Natasha research. There was no way that much violence on her birthday was just a coincidence.

“Good luck,” she said and he frowned, head tilted at her. She smirked. “No matter what clearance you have with SHIELD, I can almost guarantee Buffy's got higher.”

He tensed up. “Your sister is with SHIELD?” He was pretty sure he'd have heard about someone named _Buffy_. She snorted.

“Hell no,” she said. “She won't touch them with a ten-foot pole. She had an...encounter...back in college with a black op and the President himself classified her files as His Eyes Only when she saved the army's ass. She found out two years ago she was also given Presidential clearance or something at the same time—there was a thing in Cambodia and she got really confused when the general she got tossed in with started answering to _her_ instead of him trying to take over, as they usually did.”

From the look on her face, she knew exactly what telling him this was doing to him. If she was telling the truth—and he hadn't noticed any of the normal signs of lying—than he'd just have to sit back and not know what the fuck was up with her sister. If she wasn't, he was going to be second-guessing everything she'd be telling him from here on out. He could get behind that. “Nice,” he drawled and she grinned back. It was almost frightening how in sync they were considering they'd known each other less than twenty-four hours.

Of course, that explained why he'd gone to bed with her. As Natasha and Phil could tell you, he was REALLY picky when it came to sexual partners. He had an entirely unfounded rep at SHIELD for being a bit of a player but that was so far from the truth it wasn't even funny. He was a _spy_ , for fucks sake—sex just got too complicated when you were always paranoid about being compromised. 

“No worries though,” Dawn said, taking a bite of her sub. “We're totally the good guys.”

Somehow, that didn't actually reassure him. Something must have shown on his face because she began giggling.

It was petty as hell but... “What do you want to do about this marriage?” One quick question and all her merriment at his expense went out the proverbial window.

She slowed in her chewing before swallowing. “I don't know,” she finally said, putting her sub down. “I just finished with my dissertation. I'm going on the job market here soon—though I do have a standing offer from my sister's boss.”

“I'm stationed indefinitely in New York because of the Avengers,” he said after a moment. Technically he would also be working on missions when needed but having your face blasted across the world in news footage really messed with your ability to be a spy. He honestly wasn't sure how that'd work once the upper echelons figured things out. “And Stark's renovating that Tower of his for us all. Not sure how that's gonna work out—that many egos in one place will probably not end well.”

“I'd be more worried about how many doors you're gonna go through with all the super strong studs you have,” Dawn said off-handedly and with a bit too much knowing in her voice for his comfort levels. “Though egos can be difficult to handle—maybe you could get a spray bottle and stick ice water in it. That's what we did with Vi and Rona.”

“Who're Vi and Rona?”

“Former roommates of mine that gave true meaning to the saying, 'fighting likes cats and dogs,'” she said, rolling her eyes. “Just don't ask them which is which cause I got bruised when I did.”

He snickered.

His phone rang then and he looked down. It was Tasha. He flipped it open just as Dawn's cell went off. “Yeah?” 

“ _Fury wants you to come in with your new wife_ ,” his partner said and she sounded tense. “ _Said she'll be getting orders to tag along with you to New York_.” 

He looked over at Dawn who was staring at him and he frowned. “Yeah, pretty sure she just got that order,” he said and she gave a slight nod in agreement. “Transportation?” 

“ _Stark's got a jet in Vegas at the moment—not sure why but he told them to expect you in two hours_ ,” she answered as Dawn suddenly tensed up. He could faintly hear yelling coming from the phone and winced on her behalf—that was one unhappy person she was being yelled at by. He focused more on Natasha for a minute to give her some privacy. “ _Coulson's going to pick you up from the tarmac and take you, your wife, and another guest directly to SHIELD where you'll apparently be briefed with Fury on your new...situation_.” 

He heard what she wasn't saying—she was being left out of the briefing and was not happy about it. Still, if he knew Stark...they'd be having an audience watching the briefing. 

“Understood,” he said. He paused, watching as Dawn got up in agitation and started pacing. She was trying to get a word in edgewise but it wasn't working. Despite the situation, he couldn't help but smile at the expression she suddenly made at her phone. “I don't think this was necessarily a bad thing.” 

“ _You getting debriefed or your surprise marriage_?” 

“She's not that bad,” he said and then paused. “And I think she has government connections.” 

“ _You think_?” 

“I'll text you names,” he replied as Dawn threw her phone down on the ground and stomped on it before calmly picking it back up. It wasn't broken, to his surprise. 

“I'm not talking with you when you're like this,” he heard her say as Natasha said goodbye. “Go...pound on Spike. I'll see you in a few hours and if you're still yelling at me, I will find a way to mute you.”

Then she hung up her own cell and flopped back onto the picnic table. “Your sister?” he asked. 

She looked up at him, completely serious. “Not for much longer if she opens her mouth when we meet her.” 

He carefully kept his face bland (he had a feeling showing amusement would not be taken kindly) and started cleaning up. She joined him after a moment. “How are we getting to New York?” she finally asked as they headed back for he rental. 

“Stark Jet,” he answered and then paused. “We'll probably have an audience for whatever's going to happen at SHIELD.” 

“If Buffy's brings who I think she's going to bring, no we won't,” she said. Clint gave her a skeptical look and she patted his arm. “Trust me, not even Stark's gonna be able to get through what Willow would put up. Mostly because he's not going to understand it.” 

“If you say so.” 

“I do say so.” 

**~~*~~**

They stopped at his hotel (which was a lot lower class than Dawn's but she didn't seem to care) and picked up his gear. She eyed the bow case a moment but didn't say anything, just nodded towards the back. Back at her hotel, she let the front desk know she was checking out early and dropping the car off at the airport and then led the way back up to her room. Faith was already there and had packed up for her, so all Dawn had to do was one last check of her possessions and they headed to the the airport. 

“By the way,” Dawn said in the car, glancing at him as Faith inspected a knife she'd pulled from her boot. “Faith's coming with us.” 

“I figured as much,” he said. He knew a guard when he saw one, even if Dawn was pretending she didn't know it. 

“Okay.” 

“Okay.” 

“Okay,” Faith added dryly from the back. 

“You shut up,” Dawn ordered, looking at Faith in the rear-view mirror. “Don't think I don't know who it was who told Andrew to tell Buffy.” 

“She had to know,” Faith shrugged. 

“Not yet she didn't.” 

“He's military,” she said. “Yes she did.” 

“Did not.” 

“Did too.”

“Did not.” 

“Did too.” 

“Did not,” she repeated stubbornly and Clint looked out the window so they wouldn't notice him trying not to laugh at them. He had a feeling this was going to be an interesting plane ride.


	3. Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint meets Buffy.

Once they were settled and they were in the air, Faith promptly fell asleep. Dawn simply shook her head at her friend and pulled out a piece of pen and paper. He glanced over at one point but he didn't recognize the alphabet, let alone the language, at the bottom. The top seemed to be a letter to her sister listing the various ways she was going to murder her for yelling at her for something so mundane. It was interesting for about ten seconds and then she started scribbling in yet another language and he was lost so he focused on something else. 

In this case, the StarkPad sitting next to him. He turned it on and blinked. 

_Specialist Major Riley Finn, with the Army Initiative Project, codenamed Lilac_ , it read. _File is President's Eyes Only and not even Stark's willing to break into that quite yet. Public record says he lives in Washington, DC with his wife and son. She's retired from the project, works at the Pentagon. Specialist Captain Graham Miller works in the same outfit and is also stationed out of DC._ There was a list of files and a note to simply type in questions, the StarkPad was connected to JARVIS and he'd help out as much as he could (apparently it was one of Stark's personal working tablets that he'd left on the jet the last time he'd been there). Natasha had gotten his text then. 

He spent an hour or so reading Finn and Miller's public records before leaning back and taking a nap. 

He woke up about ten minutes before they landed in New York. Straightening up, he caught Dawn looking over at him. “What was that you were writing?” 

“Therapy,” she replied dryly and showing him the twenty or so pages. He recognized only the Arabic script. “In twenty-four languages.” 

“She writes what she'll do to her sister and then burns it,” Faith answered from where she still hadn't opened her eyes but was stretched out like a lethal cat. “And she does it in as many languages as it takes to get the anger outta her system.” 

“Huh.” Clint said, head tilted. “That's...different.” 

“But it works for me,” Dawn shrugged. 

“For me, it's shooting,” he offered, nudging his bow case with a boot. “As long as it takes...and it usually takes a while.”

“I saw the footage,” Faith said and she finally was looking at him. “Pretty impressive. Bet I could do better.” 

“You're welcome to try,” he said and he meant it. He didn't mind competition but so far, no one he'd ever met could do what he could with a bow. A gun, yes, a bow, no.

“Is that a challenge?” Faith asked and Dawn snickered. “Shut up, lil'D.” 

“Make me.”

“Bitch.”

“Jerk.” 

The pilot announced they were preparing to land so Clint settled back in his seat and waited. Once on the ground and the stairs were attached to the door, the three of them got off to be met by five black SUV's, sixteen SHIELD agents, and Coulson. His handler completely ignored Clint for the time being and held out a hand to Faith and Dawn, introducing himself. 

“It's an honor and a privilege to meet you,” he said and Clint frowned. The senior agent glanced at Clint, assessed him a moment, and then turned back to Faith and studied _her_ a moment. “My mother was never called. Thank you for everything you've done.”

This obviously was not something either woman was expecting. Dawn looked startled but Faith...she looked like she'd been slapped and not in the good way. 

“I...wasn't always a white hat,” Faith said, shifting.

Coulson just smiled at her. “In my experience, the best ones never are,” he said simply and Clint was suddenly reminded vividly of Natasha. The senior agent held out an arm towards the SUVs. “Shall we?” 

“Sure....” she replied skeptically. “Which one?” 

“We'll be in this one, the other four are protection,” he said and Clint could tell he was amused as he turned to Dawn. “Your sister made it very clear what would happen if you didn't arrive in one piece.” 

“She did?” Dawn didn't sound surprised just....resigned. 

“I'm not entirely sure half of what she promised can be done with a human spine,” he answered and then slipped into the middle car. Faith followed and Dawn threw a small, quirked smiled at him over her shoulder before slipping in after her guard.

“I mentioned my sister was insane, right?” 

**~~*~~**

They were taken directly to SHIELD HQ, Coulson remaining silent as the two women inspected the still recovering city. It might have been a few months since the Chitauri but the damage had been extensive and spread out over most of inner Manhattan. It would probably be years before every little thing was cleaned up. 

“Are they still finding bodies?” 

“Not as often but yes,” Coulson said after a moment. “By now the smell has alerted us to some but...”

“But some of the buildings are covering up the smell, right?” Dawn asked knowingly and Coulson grimaced. “The same thing happened in certain parts of Sunnydale after it collapsed.” 

“You were in Sunnydale?” Clint asked, surprised. He didn't know why, very few things about her were making sense to him right now. 

“I lived there for seven years,” Dawn shrugged. “Was about eighteen when I watched it collapse just behind the bus I was on.” 

Clint's eyes widened as he stared at her. “You were there at the end?” 

Coulson frowned. “You haven't told him anything, have you?” he asked Dawn. She squirmed in her seat before shaking her head. Coulson sighed and Clint felt the uneasiness he'd been trying to ignore come surging up again. 

Something was going on here. Something important. And Clint had absolutely no idea what it was. He hated that feeling.

The rest of the ride to HQ was quiet, with Coulson giving Dawn these looks every so often. By the time they were in the elevator and going up, Dawn finally gave a great big sigh. 

“You remember when I said not to make fun of my sisters name?” 

“Yes...”

“Don't make fun of her size either,” Faith interjected. She winced in some remembered pain. 

“Yes, that, thank you,” Dawn said. “Well...my sister? Kinda a big deal...and kinda...special.” 

“Bad special or good special?” he asked and the two women exchanged looks. 

“Both?” Faith finally offered with a quirked grin and Dawn snorted. 

“She's preternaturally gifted to be stronger, faster, and with better reflexes than you,” Coulson said and it sounded like he was sort of fed up with the girls dancing around the subject. “I would not be surprised if she could take on Steve.” 

That, more than anything, told Clint Coulson wasn't kidding about this. Steve was his idol and he never would have said she could take Rogers if she couldn't. 

“Who is she?” he asked as the doors dinged open to Fury's office, thinking she was some sort of agent or independent contractor. 

“I'm the Slayer.” Clint whipped his head around and took in the tiny blonde standing there and glaring bloody murder at him. “And you just defiled my baby sister.” 

“Defiled?” Dawn demanded, hands going to her hips. Clint absently noticed she was taller than her sister. “What are we, the middle ages?” 

“Well, we have a Robin Hood,” Buffy said with a look at him again. She glanced at Dawn and ignored Clin't irritated huff. Already with the bow jokes. He snorted when Buffy continued, “Maybe it's time I put you in a chastity belt.”

“YOU PUT THE CONDOMS IN MY SUITCASE!” Dawn shrieked as Faith snickered in the background. “What did you think I was going to do with them, make balloon animals?!”

“Yeah, B,” Faith drawled and there was no mistaking how much pleasure she was getting from this. “What did you think would happen?” 

“You don't get to talk,” Buffy ordered, pointing a finger at the brunette. “You got _Andrew_ to tell me Dawnie had a one-night stand that turned out to be longer than one night cause she was too drunk to know when to say 'I Don't!' So you don't get to talk.”

“Well Red and Rupes weren't gonna say it,” Faith said, unconcerned. “And I sure as hell wasn't going to tell you...I figured he was the safest choice cause you wouldn't kill him.” 

“What's a Slayer?” Clint asked, looking between the two women. 

“That, Agent Barton, is an excellent question,” Fury said, swooping down like some overgrown bat (not that he'd ever tell him that, of course—Clint liked being based out of not!Siberia, thank you). The three women all turned to look at him, momentarily distracted from their...discussion. 

“I give him a four for effort,” Faith finally said. 

“The coat's not as nice as Spike or Angel's,” his wife agreed as Fury glared at them and Coulson's face went the type of blandness that said he was cracking up on the inside. 

“The flare was nice and dramatic and the comment was too,” Buffy noted. “I give him a 6.” 

“For an average of 5, with my score added,” Dawn nodded decisively. “Good effort.” 

“Hey Coulson?” Clint called as Fury just glared at the women. 

“Yes, Agent Barton?” 

“How long do I have to be married before my widower-benefits would kick in?” he asked. “Cause I think my wife just kissed her ass goodbye.” 

“I've seen scarier.”

“She's seen scarier.”

“She's been scarier,” all three women said at the same time. Clint cracked a grin at Dawn's expression as she looked at her sister. 

“I'm not entirely sure that was a compliment,” she said to Faith, who snorted. 

“D, I would thank my fucking stars you're getting even that,” she noted. “You did just get drunk ass married in Vegas.” 

“Speaking of which...” the sister said, glaring at Dawn. “What the hell were you thinking?!”

“...He had really nice arms?”

“DAWN MARIE SUMMERS!”

“Barton,” he corrected, knowing he was taking his life in his hands but suspecting he'd suffer worse if he didn't help out Dawn. She was the one he was married to, after all. She could make his life so much hell.... 

“Shut. Up.” Buffy growled at him as Dawn gave him a blinding smile. Yup, totally the right fucking call, even if he was starting to think there was more to Buffy's anger than sheer, well, anger. As a sniper, he was really fucking good at reading body language and there was desperation and real fear in his sister-in-laws body that had no place if this was all about Dawn getting married. 

“If you're all fucking done?” 

“She hasn't even begun,” Faith advised as Buffy suddenly grabbed Dawn's arm dragged her over. Clint saw the wince, remembered Buffy was stronger than she appeared, and stepped forward, grabbing the blonde's wrist. 

“Get your hand off of her,” he said coolly. She looked at him, incensed, and he glared, his own hand tightening. “You're hurting her.” 

“I am not--!” 

“Actually, you kinda are,” Dawn admitted and Buffy let her sister go like she'd been burned. It didn't matter though because she already had finger shaped bruises forming. 

Buffy looked stricken, which won her brownie points with Clint. “Dawnie, I didn't...” 

“I know, Buf,” Dawn replied. “You're upset, I get it—you're not thinking straight.” 

“Speaking of not thinking straight...Can we get on with this?” Fury demanded and Clint could hear the annoyance in his voice. 

“This isn't over,” Buffy informed her sister. “You're lucky we have bigger problems at the moment anyway. Seriously, one thing I told you not to do and you go and do it! Typical!”

Dawn smiled faintly before her forehead wrinkled in worry. 

“Bigger problems?”

“HYDRA,” the blonde answered grimly and Clint and Dawn both stiffened.

“What happened?” Dawn demanded and he didn't know her well enough to decipher what the expression on her face meant. He knew about HYDRA though, had been on the opposite side of the fight with them too many times for his peace of mind—they were bad news. 

“Not here,” the slayer said, glancing at Fury who abruptly turned and walked away, obviously expecting them to follow. 

By the time they got to the conference room, not even Clint quite knew where they were. It was a part of the building he'd never been in, gotten to by several elevators, two stairwells, and more twists, turns, and doors that didn't look like doors than he could take note of. The growing feeling of unease solidified when they walked into the room and a blue wave of energy went up around the walls the moment the door closed behind Coulson. A second one, this one a blinding white, went over the first. Clint had never seen that kind before but the initial one...it was the best form of eavesdropping protection SHIELD had. 

Dawn was right. They weren't going to have an audience. 

Shit.


	4. Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dawn and Clint find out what's going on and what, exactly, is being planned to deal with it.

“Willow, Xander,” Dawn stepped forward instantly to hug the two people standing at the head of the table with a woman in a blue catsuit and black hair tied back in a low ponytail. They hugged back, Xander more tightly than Willow. She leaned back to look at the watcher. “You got called in on this?” 

“It was one of my girls who heard it,” he answered, expression grim. “The Crazy got it fast.”

“And we _will_ find out how,” Buffy said firmly, looking at her. “I promise you that.” 

“I know you will, Buffy,” she said. Every since Buffy had uttered the words HYDRA, Dawn had understood more why her sister was freaking out as much as she was. 

She'd been on HYDRA's radar for a couple years, ever since she'd helped get a slayer out of their clutches. From what they'd been able to figure, one of their scientists had studied the blood she'd ended up leaving behind (involuntarily she might add—getting shot sucked) and discovered it had...unique properties. Dawn still had no clue what she could do with the Key but her blood was still potent. It had been enough to completely rejuvenate Spike when they'd gone to save his and Angel's sorry ass way back when. He'd admitted, where Buffy couldn't hear, that her blood was actually better tasting than even a Slayers and it was a damn good thing his demon had a soft spot for her because otherwise it may not have ended well, soul or no soul. 

That said, Dawn was now (accidentally) married to a SHIELD agent. And not just any agent, but also one of the Avengers. Yeah, she could see how that had caught HYDRA's attention. 

Everyone sat down, Clint hesitating briefly before sitting down next to her with Buffy on her other side. She could see Xander was inspecting the archer with narrowed eyes but after a few seconds, his expression smoothed out. He caught her gaze and winked. 

She gave him a faint smile in return. 

“Alright, so, what's the sitch?” Dawn asked once everyone had been introduced. “What does HYDRA want with me now?” 

“From what we can tell,” Fury began, nodding at a screen and some video footage popped up of Dawn and Clint at the park in Vegas—she hadn't even known they'd been under surveillance—from the way Clin had went completely still next to her, neither had he. “They still want you for the other reasons but now they want you also as leverage—on him.” 

Clint swore softly but creatively and Dawn could practically hear Xander's estimation go up. Judging by the way Buffy leaned forward to frown at him, her sister was reevaluating him too. 

At this point, she honestly didn't know if that was a good thing or not. Knowing Dawn's luck, she'd just found the one guy everyone in the Council approved of only to have to divorce him in six months. 

“I'm not going to ask why they wanted her before,” Clint said. He turned to look at her. “I'm assuming it has to do with your sister?” 

“Yes and no,” she replied. “It's...”

“Classified?” 

“...difficult to explain.”

He nodded and there was curiosity but he was holding back. Somehow she knew he wouldn't ask. Someone's boot hit her foot under the table and she looked over at Faith, sitting across from her, who nodded sightly at her left. Dawn glanced over. Buffy was frowning again but it wasn't...angry like before. Or worried. Annoyed, mostly. Make no mistake, she was still pissed off but not about Clint, not anymore.

“They've set up a retrieval team,” Fury continued like they hadn't just interrupted him. 

“Technically, they've set up five,” Willow corrected. “We've already taken care of four.” 

“How?” Dawn asked, eyes wide. That was fast, even for them!

“Dru apparently decided the bad men who experimented on her during World War Two weren't getting her William's little....princess,” Xander replied dryly, obviously changing the description at the last minute. Dawn wasn't sure she wanted to know what Dru had actually called her. “S'why Spike's not here—we left him and the Poof dealing with her back at HQ.” 

Dawn didn't even know what to say about that—last time she'd seen Dru, she's kidnapped Dawn in an attempt to get Spike to go back to her. The vampiress had disappeared in the confusion of twenty slayers and two vampires dropping in on the nest Dru had made for herself. 

“They're regrouping though,” Buffy added, back to scowling. “We think we have another one confirmed but the location is...sketchy at best.” 

“And the first one's completely gone underground,” Fury said. “We don't know where they are or what they plan to do. Only that their goal is to capture and contain you.” 

“How many is this now?” she asked Faith, who leaned back, obviously counting in her head. There was a reason she had a tail and, sadly, this was it. 

“Thirty-six,” the brunette slayer replied. She frowned. “Though I'm not sure if this counts as one or six.” 

“Thirty-six what?” Clint asked, looking at them. 

“Kidnapping plans,” Willow answered. “Fifteen of them succeeded in getting her.” 

“Didn't turn out well for them,” Xander noted. “I think maybe one of them is still alive.” 

“Two, Jeremy was the one who told Graham so we spared him, remember?” Dawn reminded him. 

“Oh yeah,” Xander frowned. 

“Wait a minute...” Clint looked between them all. Faith smirked at Dawn, who gave Clint an innocent look.

“Hi honey, I'm home?” Dawn quipped. 

“Any-way,” Buffy said, lips twitching. “Fury came up with a plan.” 

From Buffy's expression and tone, it was obvious she didn't think much of the plan. “You don't approve of it?” 

“Not really,” Buffy said, frowning at Xander and Willow. “But I got outvoted.” 

“What's the plan?” Clint asked skeptically. “Cause I'm recalling some other plans I got shanghaied into...” 

“For the last time, Mauritania was not my fucking fault!” Fury said and Clint frowned. 

“I was thinking Croatia,” he said and Agent Coulson and Agent Hill both coughed. Fury scowled.

“Tell them the fucking plan,” he growled at Buffy and Dawn wondered just what had happened with Croatia to get that sort of reaction from the Director of SHIELD. 

Buffy's dislike of the plan had obviously deepened but she obligingly looked at Dawn. “You stay married,” she replied bluntly. 

“What?”

“Why?”

“Tell me that's not the entire plan,” that last bit was Faith, who was obviously just as lost as Dawn. 

“It's not,” Buffy promised. She looked at the other slayer. “You stay with the Avengers, you'll be a new member--”

Faith immediately burst out laughing. “Who the fuck would make _me_ an Avenger?!” she asked as Clint frowned between the five scoobies. Dawn winced and hoped he'd already figured out their was more to Faith than he thought because if he hadn't, this would go over like lead. 

“I would,” Coulson said. That sobered the so-called Dark Slayer up quick and Dawn and Clint exchanged looks. 

“I wouldn't but I was convinced you wouldn't screw up,” Fury said and Dawn wished, desperately, that she was close enough to hit the man, consequences be damned. 

“That's my sister you're talking about, so watch it!” she snapped. 

“She's not yours by blood,” Fury said. 

“Family doesn't have to be,” Buffy said, glaring as well. “So yeah, watch it mister.”

“B, D, I got it,” Faith said. 

“You don't have to, F,” Buffy said. “ _That's_ what being family means.” 

“We got your back,” Xander agreed, glaring at Fury. 

“Darn tootin!” Willow added. 

Dawn heard a stifled snicker from next to her and elbowed Clint.

“Anyway, you'll be a new member, code name Alpha—don't give me that look, it was Giles you get to blame, not me,” Buffy ordered. “Since you two will _remain married_ and will be moving into the Tower--” 

“Has anyone told Stark this?” Clint asked. Dawn was still stuck on the “still married” bit and didn't much care about her living arrangements. 

“Pepper Potts was consulted and agreed, once hearing the full story,” Coulson said. “Stark's on board.” 

“You mean Potts is on board,” Clint mumbled and Dawn wasn't sure but she thought Coulson had just hid a smile. 

“You'll be in the Tower and Dawn and Faith will be moving in at the same time, so it won't look funny if they 'click,'” Buffy made air quotes. Dawn wasn't sure why since Faith was one of her closest friends. “Clint will act as protection while we all hunt down and figure out a way to shut down HYDRA's interest in you once and for all.” 

“So basically we're the distraction,” Clint surmised. “Keep them focused on us while you do all the background digging to take them out.” 

“I wouldn't put it like that but...yes, basically,” Buffy admitted. 

And Dawn at once understood why Buffy didn't like this plan. She wasn't going to be at Dawn's side, making certain herself no one messed with her sister. She was having to _trust others with Dawn's life_ , which, historically, she'd never been very good at. Even Faith had been a compromise after Dawn blew up with the blonde for following her to Stanford. Buffy trusted Faith completely— and only she, Oz, and Spike could claim that they had her complete trust. Even ten years later, part of Buffy still didn't trust Giles, Xander, or Willow to the extent she had in high school and college. They'd repaired their relationships and were family again but...some things simply could never be taken back or fixed. 

“Why remain married?” Faith asked. “I mean, seriously, why that route?”

“We think we've been compromised,” Fury admitted after a few minutes. 

“So do we,” Buffy said darkly. Dawn couldn't contain her surprise and dismay. 

“And the amount of damage they could try and make if they thought our two groups were at odds would be beyond annoying,” Fury finished. 

“Besides, the Avengers are in the public eye,” Hill spoke up for the first time since she'd introduced herself. “Public opinion hasn't solidified enough to either side. We can't afford a messy public divorce scandal from a one-night stand a member had in Las Vegas.” 

“If it was Stark, it wouldn't matter as much, people would be focused less on the team and more on Stark's personal life,” Agent Coulson added. “But people don't know anything about you, Natasha, or Thor—something like this would ruin your public image before you even had one. We can't afford it right now.” 

“This could go side-ways,” Clint said after a moment, frowning deeply. “Dawn could become more of a target and to more people—I haven't exactly made friends doing what I do. Put her in the public eye as my wife, they'll take notice and it won't be the good kind.” 

Dawn caught Faith's eye. The slayer raised her eyebrows expectantly. A quick glance at Buffy, Xander, and Willow showed the same thing. She made a face before turning to her husband. 

“Clint,” Dawn hesitated. “Remember how we said my sister's kinda...special?” 

“Yeah...” 

“I'm not exactly...free...of what she does,” Dawn said, biting her lip. “I've made some enemies of my own...” 

“So being married to you puts a target on my back too,” he finished. She nodded solemnly. He shrugged, a slight smile lifting the corner of his mouth. “Can't be worse than what I already have to keep an eye out for.” 

Dawn sighed. 

Oh, those famous last words.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dawn and Clint's first evening as husband and wife.

Her new husband knew about the supernatural. Dawn wasn't entirely surprised—he'd worked with a God, not to mention whatever the hell it was the Hulk was—but it had clearly thrown Buffy. Apparently there had been one or two missions where Clint and his partner, Natasha (aka the Black Widow) had gotten too deep before figuring out the situation was not mundane. Coulson had mumbled something about Budapest but none of the SHIELD agents would elaborate. Dawn had vowed to get it out of them eventually. 

Clint didn't like Willow. His reaction to finding out Willow was a witch was...impressive. Finding out he'd been in Vegas to try and come to terms with the fact he'd nearly killed a bunch of people because he'd been possessed by a magic user explained why but it couldn't erase the fact he didn't trust Willow. Fortunately, Willow seemed to understand and while pissed off on his behalf—if it wasn't Loki who'd done it, Dawn had a feeling the redhead would have gone after the caster herself—she made certain to stay away from him so he'd be more comfortable the rest of the meeting. 

Dawn didn't tell him about the Key. Not even Fury knew about Dawn being the Key and seemed to be chalking up her special blood to being Buffy's sister. Dawn knew there was no reason to tell him when they'd be separating/divorcing/annulling the marriage as soon as it was safe to do so. Still, a part of her felt incredibly guilty about keeping it from him. 

The rest of the meeting went as well as Dawn could have hoped for. Clint and Dawn now had a (somewhat) believable cover story so people wouldn't know they hadn't known each other before tying the knot. As far as the world would know, Dawn and Clint had been together for a few years but given the nature of his work, had never gone public about the relationship. They'd been engaged for a few years but had gotten married admittedly spur of the moment after New York had impressed on Clint that he had no reason to wait anymore. If any of the mini's actually bought it, they'd think it was romantic. Cliche, but romantic. 

“So we met when you were working in London,” Dawn said in the car on their way to the Stark Mansion. They'd left behind Buffy, Xander, and Willow to work with Fury and Hill about routing out the HYDRA teams. They were coming up with their meeting story, something Buffy had insisted Dawn and Clint themselves be allowed to do. “How?” 

“I got a bunch of pigs to back off at a bar?” he suggested. 

“Pub,” she corrected. “And why do _you_ get to be the hero in this scenario? This woman can take care of herself. I ain't no Cinderella.”

“Noted,” he smiled. “So you saved _me_ from unwanted advances from a bunch of pigs?”

“That works,” Dawn smirked and Clint rolled his eyes. Faith snorted from where she was sitting across from them in the town-car. Dawn ignored her in favor of smiling at the barely-hiding-his-own-smile-Coulson. She turned back to Clint. 

“So I saved you from a bunch of pigs--”

“And then I swept you off your feet!” 

“Uh, more like we talked for hours and exchanged numbers,” Dawn said.

“I just can't win with this, can I?” he asked the other brunette. 

“Against D?” Faith said and snorted. “Not a chance. That's one girl who always goes after what she wants and usually gets it. It's kind of annoying.”

“Well, I'm used to take-charge women,” Clint smiled. 

“Then you'll be fine with D,” Faith said. “She's bossy.”

“Uh, sitting right here?” Dawn waved a hand in the air. 

“I can handle bossy,” Clint told her and she frowned at him.

“This is going to be an interesting marriage,” Coulson noted as the car slowed to a stop in the back garage of the Stark Mansion.

“Mission,” Dawn and Clint both corrected him. The senior agent looked up, eyebrow arched. 

“Isn't that what I said?”

**~~*~~**

The Stark Mansion had been built just before the United States entrance into World War Two. It had been designed and built by Howard Stark and consisted of numerous rooms, suites, and entire apartments. Tony had donated one end of it to the Maria Stark Foundation, as their headquarters when they had just been getting off the ground. Eventually, MSF had built their own offices and left the now historic landmark as a private residence for Tony and, until his betrayal, Obadiah Stane. 

After the attack by the Chitauri, Stark had opened it up to any member of the team who needed a place while they rebuilt the Tower. Steve had eventually taken him up on it, as had Bruce. Natasha and Clint preferred their own safe-houses but had agreed to suites. Thor would also have his own rooms once he got back. After the fiasco with the Mandarin, Stark himself had moved in with Pepper Potts, since the renovations to the Tower Penthouse were progressing slowly. When they'd discovered Phil was alive, they'd dragged his recovering ass there as well. Clint had only stayed there a few times, usually after they'd trained as a team and he hadn't wanted to take the subway or a cab all the way to his place an hour away. 

“Big place,” Faith noted as they stepped out of the car. “Who all are we meeting here again?”

“Natasha, Stark, Steve, and Banner,” Clint replied. “Thor's still on Asgard.” 

He pretended not to hear his...to her Dawn's sigh of relief. He was pretty sure he didn't want to know why she seemed leery of the God. 

“And Pepper,” Coulson added. “She's inside as well.” 

Clint's hope that Potts presence would stop Stark from something outlandish was dashed the moment they stepped into the great room and found a sign that said “Congratulations, Clint and Dawn!” hanging from the rafters. The man himself was standing underneath it and the moment they appeared, he popped a champagne bottle. 

“Sweet, the good stuff,” Faith murmured and Clint didn't need to look behind him to know Dawn had just smacked the back of the brunette slayer's head. 

“Be nice,” she hissed. “Seriously, it's like I'm meeting the in-laws!” 

Clint must have made a truly hilarious face because Natasha, who had the best poker face of anyone he'd ever met, started snickering. Steve fell into a rather violent coughing fit that did nothing to hide how much he was trying not to laugh, so he too must have heard Dawn's comment. Stark was frowning between them but Potts was already coming forward, hand outstretched. 

“Ignore the iron idiot,” she advised. “It's a pleasure to meet you, I'm Pepper Potts.” 

“Dawn, uh, Barton, I guess,” Dawn said and Clint honestly couldn't say what the two of them said after that cause his head went fuzzy at the sudden realization that he was honestly _married_. Shit. 

“It just hit you, didn't it?” Natasha asked, sidling up to him. Stark was pouting as his “celebrations” were systematically ignored. 

“Do you know the plan?” he asked instead of answering the obvious. 

“Coulson briefed us on what Fury wanted to do,” she nodded. “I take it she agreed?”

“Wasn't given a choice,” Faith said, standing between him and Dawn with her hands in her pockets and eying the inside of the mansion as Steve introduced himself to the other brunette. “Big Sis agreed so D agreed. She knows better than to argue with B when she's in a mood.” 

“She was in a mood?” 

“A mild one, yeah,” she agreed. “You don't wanna see her when she's in a real one.” 

Clint eyed her skeptically and Faith smirked back but didn't elaborate. 

“You must be Faith,” Natasha said, eying the brunette critically. Faith just studied her back, no freaking out like others would have to be under the Black Widow's eye. 

“So what's your schtick?” Stark asked, butting into the conversation. “Agent didn't say.” 

Faith's head tilted slightly before she looked around. Finally, she picked up an iron poker from the fireplace. The three of Avengers watched as she quickly and efficiently twisted it around in a circle before handing it over to a staring Stark. He hefted it up, looking at it every which way, before handing it over to Steve. 

“Can you undo that?” he asked and Steve did so. It took more pressure that what Faith had seemed to exert but he was able to get it back to its original shape. 

“So you have strength,” Stark noted before he tilted his head towards Steve. “Got that already.” 

“Weapons expert, she's got speed, endurance, and senses like you wouldn't believe,” Dawn said, coming over and slipping her arm through Faith's. “If its not normal, she'll be able to tell you.” 

“And D's got her own little tricks,” Faith said and Clint snapped his attention to Dawn, who gave him a wry smile. 

“Nothing like Buffy, Faith, or Willow,” she assured him. “And I tend to be a huge klutz. But I do, as Faith said, have my own little tricks.” 

The slayer snorted but didn't elaborate. Dawn refused to as well, leaving Clint wondering just what “tricks” Dawn could possibly have. 

**~~*~~**

Stark had decided to move them to another suite. In his words, the one Clint had before weren't big enough and “no one should start a relationship by moving into someone elses space...or so I've been told.”

Dawn had had to stifle a laugh when he got a kick to the shin from Ms. Potts for that one. She wasn't the only one. 

“Stark is...one of a kind,” she said as they stepped into the suite and saw where they'd be staying for the next few weeks or months (hopefully not years, she wasn't sure she'd be able to handle years). 

“You mean he's a jackass,” Clint corrected with a snort. “I'm going to kill him.” 

“That too,” she agreed. 

Stark's idea of a set of rooms for the newlyweds was, she was pretty sure, the trashiest version of a “honeymoon” suite he could recreate in only a few hours. There was even a heart shaped mirror anchored above the bed!

“Oh no,” they heard Pepper say as they left the bedroom. “Oh, Agent Barton, I'm so sorry. I had no idea he'd done this.” 

“Would you mind terribly if I shot him in the ass?” Clint asked and Pepper looked like she really wanted to say no, she wouldn't mind, but the girlfriend part of her fought it down. 

“I'd rather you didn't,” she said. “In the meantime...”

“You don't like it?” Stark asked, standing in the doorway. Dawn glared at him but it had nothing on the look Pepper shot him. He held up his hands. “Alright, alright, too far?” 

“Much too far,” Clint growled.

“Lucky for you, I actually do know to have a backup,” Stark said and then tossed a pair of keys at the archer. Clint caught them, of course, and Stark smirked. “Doors at the end of the hall.” 

“Tony,” Pepper said, voice soft and loving, like the billionaire had just done something good. 

“What?” he asked, fidgeting. “I had to get them somehow and, really, it was Steve's idea. I just made it happen.” 

Dawn grabbed her bags and hightailed it out of the room, ignoring the bit about Steve in the wake of Pepper's obvious love for the genius. Clint was right after her and when she chanced a look back, she saw the two of them face to face, forehead's touching as they stood there together. 

Her throat tightened at the sight and she resolutely turned back to the doors at the end of the hall. Eventually she'd get that. Eventually.

Their real rooms were much more tasteful, done in various shades of white, cream, and purple. There were no mirrors in unusual places and there was an office in addition to the master bedroom. There was only one bed though and Clint immediately offered to take the couch. 

“Do you snore?” she asked and he stopped in the doorway back out to the main room. 

“No...”

“Then I see no reason why we can't share a king size bed,” she said simply and left it at that. Clint looked like he was about to argue and then snapped his mouth shut. Instead, he dumped his bags on the bed and started snooping in the closet and dressers, of which there were two—one was empty and the other was filled with his clothes and a note. He quickly read it, expression tightening, and then he stuffed it into his pocket. Dawn saw all this but didn't ask and for the first time she wondered if he had had a girlfriend or lady friend before this. If so, she wondered what the hell he was planning on saying to said lady friend. 

“Do you feel like cooking?” Clint asked unexpectedly as Dawn separated the clothes from her luggage into two piles, one to be washed and one to be put away. Most her things went into the former. Dawn paused, question repeating in her head, before she looked at him.

“You don't want me to,” she said honestly and he frowned. “Seriously, I can bake but that's about as far as my cooking abilities go. And the only reason I know how to bake is because Willow spent a month teaching me after I set off the fire alarm for the fifth time.” 

“Oh,” he said. “Well, I can cook. I'm not that bad but I can't bake for the life of me...” 

So that evens out, Dawn thought to herself. “So why the conversation about cooking?” 

“Cause I'm too tired to,” he answered sheepishly. “We could order out?”

“As long as its not pizza, I'll be good,” she said. “I had way too much pizza these last few weeks.”

“Why'd you have so much pizza?” he asked, frowning. 

“I was finishing up my thesis and then preparing to defend it,” she answered. “Pizza was easiest to eat while trying to read four different texts at once and type on my laptop.” Dawn could tell he was trying to imagine it in his head by the way his lips suddenly quirked. “Yes, it was as funny as you're probably thinking it was. I think there were pictures taken at one point cause I started using my toes to turn pages.” She fell into giggles at his expression at that bit of information. 

They ended up ordering Chinese, something simple and that they both enjoyed. Dawn refrained from doing anything truly outlandish to her food when they sat down in the little kitchen, on opposite sides of the island with the cartons in between. Well, more or less. The Tabasco sauce made an appearance but besides a curious look when she dumped half of it on her fried noodles, Clint didn't gag or make any sort of remark about it. 

They cleaned up silently, working side by side to load the dishwasher and wipe down the island. Clint hesitated a moment before grabbing a beer from the fridge and headed to the living room. Dawn followed, a glass of red wine in her own hands. She didn't care for any American beer, which was the only thing in their fridge, so red wine it was. She sat down on the opposite side of the couch as Clint turned on the TV.

“Anything in particular you want to watch?” Clint asked as he flipped through the channels. “Stark's got everything and anything. I'm not picky.” 

“Um, history channel?” she asked and he immediately flipped back to the documentary on Athens. “Do you like history?” 

“It was the only subject I actually enjoyed when I was in school,” he nodded, eyes flickering at her a moment. “That and math. Just don't tell Stark about either one.” 

“Done,” she said, settling back to watch the documentary and make corrections in her head. When it ended an hour later, Dawn was itching to write a very strongly worded letter to the researchers, since she knew for a fact half of the so-called “facts” had been completely wrong.

“You look angry,” Clint said suddenly and Dawn startled, almost having forgotten she wasn't alone. He looked uneasy.

“Not at you,” she assured him after a moment. “I just hate historical documentaries with so many inaccuracies.” 

“They were wrong?” he asked and he sounded...better. Less worried. Sort of amused. 

“They were _very_ wrong,” she said. “Anyone with decent researching skills will tell you that.” 

“What was wrong?” he asked and with that, she launched into a truly epic Dawn Summers Babble.


End file.
